Sleeping In Her Bed
by LadyMoonHawke
Summary: "Spike would have to die." But will it be enough to cool the rage in Vicious, and when will it end between them? Set pre-series. Part 3, "Spiraling" now up.
1. Sleeping in Her Bed

Disclaimer: I don't own Vicious, Julia, Spike, or any of the characters from Cowboy Bebop. (Sigh. So sad) I do own this particular story, but it is not for sale and I am making no money from it.  
  
AN: The idea for this piece came from a couple of places. 1) In the flashes of Spike's memory as he falls in "Ballan of Fallen Angels," there is a scene of Vicious sitting up in bed, possibly next to Julia, and 2) Chapter 7 from Lady Razorsharp's "Beyond Beautiful," so thanks to her for letting me play in her sandbox. :) --LMH  


* * *

Sleeping In Her Bed  
  
_He's been here,_ Vicious realized with a jolt. The thought jerked him from a sound sleep, and he slumped over, hands braced to prop himself up. Julia slept on, unaware of the torment in his soul. _Or maybe she just doesn't care,_ he thought.  
  
It had taken a long time to convince her, persuading, coaxing, cajoling, before she'd finally agreed to take the Red-Eye with him, and they'd lit into each other with a frenzy, tearing the small apartment to pieces before crashing at last into the bed and, for him, at least, a restless sleep. But it wasn't the drugs that disturbed him.  
  
It was her. She had cried out near the end, pleading for release, begging _him,_ begging _Spike_ to take her over the edge. In the end, he'd fuzzily wrapped his fingers around her throat to silence the name on her lips.  
  
_Spike._ Had he been with her, been here, in her bed? Or had she only wished it, wanted it, made believe in the drug-induced fog? Or had she wanted Spike all along, and been pretending every time, only declaring her true desire once the Red-Eye whisked away her inhibitions?  
  
He'd go crazy if he kept this up. Maybe he was imagining things. Mao had chastised him more than once for jumping at shadows, for seeing more than was there, though he'd been praised as often for catching something no one else saw. Hard to know, then if this was real or just some nightmare.  
  
So lost had Vicious been in his ponderings that he hadn't heard the footsteps on the stairs, or rather, had not thought to pay attention to them, or the soft noise of the apartment door opening. But he heard it now as it slammed closed, and realized that for a few precious seconds, he had been observed, nude, in Julia's bed. Not a problem, normally. Everyone knew Julia was his. But there had been just enough light from the street to illuminate green hair, a sickened expression, and the empty vial of Red-Eye on the nightstand.  
  
Slowly, or so it felt, Vicious reached across Julia's slumbering form to the nightstand, past the empty vial toward the gun, then past the gun to the pack of cigarettes and lighter lying beyond it. Retrieving them, he slid out the far side of the bed and leaned against the wall next to the open window. He shook a stick up and caught it in his mouth, flicking the lighter to light it, then tossed the pack and lighter onto the other nightstand behind him. Cold air blew in to brush his exposed skin, but he made no move to cover himself. Cold and warmth were external forces, and he allowed them no effect on his true self.  
  
He blew a stream of smoke from his nose and watched as the green-haired form appeared in the street below, huddled in a bomber jacket, walking resolutely away. And in that moment, Vicious knew it didn't matter. Spike would have to die. Slowly, Vicious stretched out one long-fingered hand, index finger pointed squarely at his foster brother's back. "Bang," he whispered softly.  
  
In the bed, Julia stirred. "Vicious?"   
_  
Nice that she finally remembered._ "It's nothing, Julia. Go back to sleep."  
  
~FIN~  
  
  



	2. Seeing Red

Disclaimer: I still don't own Cowboy Bebop, or any of the characters. Wish I did, though I wouldn't wish it to be any different, Lord knows. No money whatsoever involved.  
  
AN: This one gets its genesis from a shot in the closing credits; Vicious and Spike on opposite sides of a fence, facing away from each other. It's more of a sequel to "Sleeping In Her Bed," than a continuation, but it's in the same universe, (Thanks, Razor-chan) and it's easier to keep them together this way. :) 

* * *

  
  
Seeing Red  
  
  
Red.  
  
I'm seeing red.  
  
It's all I can see now. Red when she called his name, red when he slammed out the door, red when I watched him walk down the street.  
  
It doesn't matter if they did or they didn't. I know he wanted to. What else was he doing at her apartment at that hour? We were off that night, I left him drinking at C'est La Vie. He should have stayed there. Would have been healthier in the long run.  
  
I couldn't look him in the face today. I was setting him up to die, and I couldn't look him in the eye and do it. He would have seen it, and while Spike may be loyal to the Syndicate, his sense of survival is stronger. He'd get around his own execution somehow, and this rage would never go away.  
  
It's hot, this feeling, churning and pounding in me, burning me from the inside. I hate it. I hate the rage and anger and the red. I want it gone, and it will go with him. It has to, or I will be left with a fire in my belly that will never, ever die.  
  
I can hardly stand to look at her now, either. To speak her name, to think it brings torments of the damned. Maybe she knows. I don't care. I just hope she knows it's all for her, because of her. It all begins and ends with her.  
  
I think I've kept it from the people who matter. Mao would stop me if he knew. The Van would lock me away forever. Spike's their Golden Boy, their heir apparent. He's not the king yet, but it's coming. And it's time for a change. _Le Roi est mort. Vive le Roi._  
  
And it's good to be the king.  
  
~FIN~  
  



	3. Spiraling

Disclaimers: Still not mine, but Christmas is coming. How good do I have to be for Santa to leave them in my stocking, do you think? I'd feed 'em and water 'em and brush 'em every day....  
  
Spoilers for the end of the series, though more in the prophetic sense than the action sense.  


* * *

Spiraling  
  
  
He's alive.  
  
I never let myself think about it before, but I know it's true.  
  
I let him walk, stumble, lurch out of that church, convinced her was going off somewhere to curl up like a cat under a bush and die.  
  
Damn him, and his rambling about tiger cats and white cats and any other kind of cats. He's not a cat; he can't be, because then I'd have to kill him another 6 or 7 times. And I'm running out of patience with killing Spike. It's losing its allure.  
  
I must have known when Julia disappeared. Who else would she take that kind of risk for? She defied her orders and ran. Maybe she was smarter than me. She didn't end up on Titan in the middle of a war for the better part of a year. Lucky her.  
  
I try not to think of Titan. It brings up Gren, and Gren is a strange pain in my chest, something I do not, cannot, recognize. Gren was... an unfortunate necessity. Beautiful, but ultimately expendable.  
  
Mao must have known. "If only Spike would come back..." Not "if only Spike was alive..." Meaning Spike was somewhere, meaning Mao knew where Spike was, or had an idea. Meaning maybe Mao was waiting for the moment to bring Spike back. I think I'm glad Mao's dead. Certainly, if he wasn't, I would be.  
  
That's how I know, really. Spike must be alive, because _I'm _alive. As long as I live, so does Spike. And when I die, Spike will die. There's something strange, almost poetic in that. One day, it will be steel against steel between us again, and then, it will spiral out of control, until neither of us can stop. And I will die by Spike's hand as he dies by mine. Fate's fickle like that, more so that Fortune. But they're a pair of bitches between them.  
  
Doesn't mean I can't have some fun in the meantime. Have to do something while I wait.  
  
~FIN~  
  
  



End file.
